Ashley and I recently traveled to Korea to join my mother’s side family in celebrating my halmoni’s (grandma’s) 90th birthday.  Yup, they live quite long on that side of the family.  It was great being able to see halmoni again, especially on this very special occasion.

During our trip, Ashley and I went to eat sahn nakji (live octopus).  They chopped it up for us, and the squirming tentacles made it a little difficult to grab them with the chopsticks.  It was interesting eating something that could fight back.  The sensation was kind of odd, but it was tasty, and I couldn’t help feeling a little adventurous.  Maybe not Captain Nemo adventurous, but still…

I’ve finally done it.  After years of missed opportunities and half-hearted attempts to study on my own, I’ve finally enrolled in a Korean language class.  Why now?  Well, aside from the lingering dull ache of guilt, what motivated me now relates to family.

My wife speaks fluent Korean and comes from a very traditional Korean family, who speak Korean exclusively to each other.  My in-laws have been incredibly kind and welcoming since we first met, but communicating hasn’t exactly been easy.  And, of course, learning Korean means I could communicate with my own aunts, uncles, etc. more easily.

I actually spoke Korean when I was a young child, but as I entered school, my parents made a conscious decision to speak primarily English to me, so as not to interfere with my language development.  Eventually, my Korean language skills atrophied from non-use until all that remained was a pitifully small collection of words and phrases that rarely did me any good.  When Ashley and I have kids, we want them to be able to speak Korean with their grandparents and other relatives, and it would help a lot if I was ahead of our kids on the learning curve.  Until they inevitably catch up with and pass me, hopefully not until they’re at least 5 or 6 years old.

The class I’m taking is offered by the Korean Cultural Center of Los Angeles.  It’s a great deal: $40 for a 10-week session with levels ranging from Basic to Advanced.  I’m in Basic B, which is primarily for Korean-Americans who, like me, know the alphabet and can read a little, speak a little and understand a little, as well as non-Koreans who advanced from Basic A.  Our instructor is perfect for our class — he’s a 1.5-generation K-A who had to re-learn Korean himself, so he understands where we’re coming from and how best to approach the language from our context.

I don’t expect ever to be fluent, but that’s not my goal.  I’d just like to be able to carry on a short, simple conversation and understand when someone’s talking s**t about me.  Is that so much to ask?

A couple of weeks ago, Ashley and I attended Koream Journal’s annual black-tie event honoring the achievements of Korean-Americans (and-Canadians).  Sandra Oh (Grey’s Anatomy) accepted her award via video from fellow Canadian and TV’s hottest artificial lifeform, Grace Park.  The music honoree was Joe Hahn from Linkin (no relation to Grace) Park, and the sports honoree was freestyle-skiing medalist Toby Dawson.  But the most impressive figure there that night, in my opinion, was seated to my left: Dr. Sammy Lee.

It’s understandable if you’re unfamiliar with Sammy Lee and his accomplishments.  He may not be as famous as Jesse Owens or Jim Thorpe, but Sammy Lee is a true pioneer, not only in American sports, but in American history.  He was the first Asian-American to win an Olympic gold medal for the U.S.  He won back-to-back gold medals in platform diving in 1948 and 1952, plus a bronze in springboard diving in 1948.

What makes Sammy’s accomplishments even more impressive is the fact that he achieved them in the face of blatant prejudice and discrimination.  In addition, he went to medical school and was a U.S. Army doctor when he competed in the Olympics.  Naturally, I was honored to sit next to him and speak with him.  Even better, he turned out to have a mischievous and salty personality.  My kind of guy.

Sammy is seated, bottom left, in the picture below.